Halloween From a Serial Killer's Perspective
by LittleMouse94
Summary: A twisted story how the serial killer Mike Myers sees Halloween from the 1980 horror film Halloween. He is after people who have been through his house and their families! Read this twisted horror epidemic of Halloween!
1. The Hunt

(Picking up from the end of Halloween)

My knife was so close to that bitch's throat and I could smell her fear. I took a deep breath and inhaled the moment – this moment that I favored so much and the best part of my artwork. A gun was suddenly firing bullets everywhere, bouncing off of the bullet-proof vest I was wearing underneath my uniform ruining my perfect moment. The agitation! The ignorant police officer ruining my moment… still, what was the fun in just standing there? To complete my artwork I needed to take action and "pretend" to be in great pain. I suppose a reaction they would like seems to be "dodging" those bullets by going backward. My feet slip, and I am falling out of the two-story window.

The feel of the cool Halloween breeze is a turn on; the shattered glass flying freely through the sky is as well. Being thrown out of a window in order to save some bitch is a turn off. Firing some bullets to save some child watcher… why, that's just a criminal act. They call child watching "Baby-sitting". Keeping children out of danger? All the more reason to hunt them down. No parents – only some teenage junkie who cares about not missing their favorite TV show expecting a paycheck. Why not give them a scare while I'm at it?

I land rather hardly by the grass. "Baldie" is looking out the window onto my body - like his life-time dream has been fulfilled. When he gets back into his little police cruiser thinking I am dead and goes off to the little press and blabs about me – he won't get the chance. If he would continue to live, he should grow hair and lay off the donuts. No, he won't. I will make his corpse special. Why not scare him and torture his fugly life? He ruined mine, after all.

Of course a split second after looking at me he goes back into the room to make sure the little bitch is "all-right". Speak, speak, speak… the world can hear you two. Why not just scream? "… He's dead! We are saved…" Baldie's Police friend is yelling. Oh please… why not give Baldie and Baby-sitter a little scare? Time to roll off under a bush close by. Not a second later they all are all looking at the window where my body was. The beginning of the game begins when the look of terror arises on each face at that window. "…Monster is gone… more victims… serial killer at large… protection…" Baldie is speaking. Blah, blah, blah.

I stay in my bush. They all come out of the front door. The two little children run off to their houses quite scared. (That's definitely a start.) Baby-sitter is looking for me in the dark. She has brains but no vision. She will be a challenge… but all the more fun. I suppose that Baldie is still going to protect her. But why not get Baldie first? Why not get him tonight?

Chapter 1:

Talk, talk, talk. That's all he does. He talks when he walks Baby-sitter to her front porch, he talks to the "mom" and "dad" and he talks on his small-radio to his other police friends. I watch the bald spot on his old ugly head. He gets into that police car of his and drives off. No matter – while he is busy talking it only gives me time to get into my car as well. Baldie is far too busy eating his French Fries to notice my car following him. Not that he would notice, he probably is to busy "protecting" more people from me - or the so-called "it".

Baldie drives on and on. The minutes tick on and on… I have all the time in the world. The sun is rising off in the distance over the rolling hills. They remind me of memories of that place, that hell-hole of when I was a child. That place where police officers surround us and didn't let me work on art. I hate those memories and am suddenly furious at it all- furious at Baldie, at Baby-sitter, at the car… I will get my revenge, get that woman who dragged me to that place. She is next. I will make her special…

His police car is driving into a near-abandoned run down shack place. I sit and watch. He struggles with taking keys out of the ignition. Who struggles with that? What a loser. Wait, that fits the description of him. He nearly topples out of his car when he wretches the door open and spills a cup of coffee all over his fugly tie. He curses and walks oh-so-slowly into the dump or so-called "bar" by civilians who live in this place the so-called "middle of nowhere". The seconds tick by. Time to get ready.

Bullet-proof vest, mask, gloves, and a knife. It is all there… now it's time to use my sneaky skills to creep around the bar. Sneaking isn't necessary… but all the same, this must be a surprise. The smell of fear with the adrenaline is just the start. The knife is out and ready to stab as the door swings open with a slow creak. Someone sober actually turns to look to see why the door is open with their painfully-slow reflexes, but see nothing. The only place to hide before he looked at the door was this closet – and someone is already in here. The closet door is shut before someone can blink and eye… and this man's fear is such a seduction.

The memories of killing the victims come back. This certain man's heart is racing and his adrenaline is way up. It is a seduction – a torture – and somewhat a turn-on… the best part of taking human lives with a knife. Torture is an entertainment. It's a mouse playing with a cat then eating it later – it is the best part of the game.

He opens his mouth to scream, but the knife goes into his heart too fast. Blood gushes out of his chest staining his already-stained shirt. He falls onto the floor and rolls into a ball of agony. A puddle of blood is at his feet getting larger each minute. It is beautiful. The knife and the scent of this man's fear mixed with his sweat makes means one thing – I will never stop. The knife is getting pushed into him further and further. The man's face is agonizing. He makes a choking noise and a pleading gasp… the blood suddenly stops gushing. The scent smells wonderful. His corpse is a masterpiece that shall never be disturbed.

Dried blood has bubbled under the door. The men in the bar murmur about the mysterious substance under the door. Baldie talks crap about "being a policeman" and "handling this". Baldie will NOT ruin this for me again. I yank the bloody knife out of the corpse and thrust the closet doors open. The people in the bar all go instantly silent. Their eyes wonder to the bloody mess on the floor, from the knife to the dead man. They all feel terror at the same instant – and their hearts all race.

"You don't have to do this!" It's Baldie trying to reason with his damn mouth. No surprise. "Please. Don't." Ignore his pleas, and it will all be good. The sound of silence is too loud. A man runs out the back. Well, the man has got a brain. Just like Baby-Sitter. No one else moves but all eyes turn on him. Hunting him down will be next year's Halloween game. Baldie makes a move for the box that he communicates to his police friends in – but it is thrown across the room before he can grab it with fast reflexes.

It now has bloody glove-prints on it and he doesn't retrieve it. His heart isn't pounding in fear like the other men. That's a deal-maker. He's next. The people in the bar file out of the door in the back one by one as the minutes tick by… he stands watching. The perfect opportunity; a snake about to strike it's prey.

The men are all gone. Silence fills the air. For someone as out-of-shape, bald and ugly, he can run. Baldie gets into his car like wind – another turn on – and he is driving in his car away into the night. My car follows. Baldie is talking on that hand-held radio attached to the car – or at least he tries. But part of the plot was disabling it… he tries to turn on his police siren, but that doesn't work either… the car speeds up and turns back the direction it came from – It turns back to the neighborhood; the neighborhood with the house, Baby-sitter and all her little friends. Baldie is going to get his police friend's help, if he is allowed to live.


	2. Twisted Turns

Chapter 2

Baldie's siren is "disabled" and he's actually wondering how. He's obviously in a hurry. Speeding down the highway like a lightning rod. 'Speedier, speedier speed, speed, speed…' SCREECH. His tires on the cement of Baby-sitter's driveway. That was… fast. Baldie is 'running' (more like Penguin-hobbling) up to Baby-sitter's front door. Knock, knock. Door answered. Baldie brings on the whole "loose, dangerous, serial-killer after your daughter' speech. Talk, talk, talk… Just shut the hell up you ignorant loon. If people actually _cared _what came out of your trashy mouth I'd be getting the lethal injection right now, you scum.

Hmm. Baby-sitter's mother looks worried. Worried about her little daughter, her life that 'she brought into the world'. HA! The look on her face after her daughter's corpse is found with thirty stabbings like intended the look on her face _then _will be priceless. The father comes to the door, looking equally worried. Then the mother runs back into the house crying. Father is making gestures and shouting at Baldie. Some justice! He slams the door in Baldie's face. Baldie storms back into the car looking pissed. Serves you right.

Father is allowed to live, for now… but Mother is useless waste roaming the world. She is trash that needs to get disposed of. Baldie is talking to one of his police-friends in the lawn. He and his 'friend' get into the friend's car and drive off into the night. Mother all sad and Father pissed off… it's the perfect timing for a victim, like a snake targeting a mouse.

The gloves slip onto my fingers easier than cutting a piece of cake. The mask is slipped onto my face and the knife is at hand. Sliding out of the car quietly is something anyone back at that "mental-hospital" (hell-hole) mastered. Father left the door unlocked… not wise, not wise.

The door widely opens, and I slip in. CREAK. No response. Lights are blaring all over this house. The TV is loud, almost too loud. Amazing the neighbors haven't awakened from their slumbers to scream at this family to turn it off. Screams come from upstairs. Baby-sitter and Father are arguing. Knife in stabbing position – it's my job to creak up the stairs and see the hubbub…

Yell. Yell. Who cares about their problems? Yell, yell, scream, scream. Baby-sitter notices the person wearing the mask with a bloody knife approaching and lets out a gasp of air. Then she uses some of her brain (unlike most people) and runs into the closet (even though that didn't work out so well for her last time). Killing Father… eh, it's fun. He charges at me, and I let him have it.

He runs towards me – what was the moron expecting to do – the knife is entering through his clothes and skin into his heart. Blood starts to gush and Father lets one plea out for help. Time seems to stand still as he slowly – ever so slowly – falls to the floor. The knife is yanked out of him. The blood gushes and gushes out of him. Father is a living person no more. A pooled puddle of blood has surrounded the corpse of a person with a white face. The little brother walks in and screams – big mistake.

Knife is in stab position again. The smell of a child's fear… so, so _luring_… My lips smack together, and I get closer and closer to him. "NO!" Baby-sitter screams, running out of the closet, protecting the youth. She is really starting to irritate me. What is she, some kind of hero? I just keep walking forward, with the knife ready in hand. Baby-sitter grabs Little Brother and runs. Hmmm. He's future leverage if she actually cares that much about him… following, following, following. They run down the stairs. Following, following, following… Ah. She is taking Little Brother across the street. Unwise… he will be taken care of in good time.

Baby-sitter is knocking on someone else's door – the neighbor three houses away. Banging. The door opens. An old lady asks her a question. Baby-sitter slides in and the door closes. The blinds are all shutting in the first floor and the lights are all going out. Since she is going to shelter her from the world… why not shelter the world _from_ her?


	3. Stalling

Chapter 3

Across the street, the children ran into the old lady's house. Baby-sitter's house is now pitch-black, unless she is going to call the children. The powering box is right there…. Walk, walk, walking to the powering box. Whoops. The knife cut a hole through the wires. No more telephones for you Baby-sitter. A scream comes from inside the house. Mother runs out onto the front lawn. "Laurie! Laurie!" she is frantic over this girl. She runs back into the house. Someone really needs to shut her up.

Walking, Walking, Walking… BANG! A gun bullet is shot in the back of the gun-bullet-proof vest in the back. That is really starting to irritate. It's _Baldie_ again. He needs to go die. A knife would do the trick. A bad, beaten, bloody knife…

Baldie fires again. He intakes a gasp of air and runs towards his car. I beat him to the punch. He runs into the car and locks the doors. He looks over at me and lets out his last breath of life – his last blood-curling scream.

The knife enters his police uniform. Blood comes flowing out. The knife is stabbing his abdomen over and over and over again. Blood is racing out of his heart at ninety miles per hour. Baldie lets out one attempted cry of desperation and then he is a living person no more. The knife is caked with dried blood. The car seat is devoured in red and the window is all blood spatters.

Mother is next. Walk into her house, slip in the front door, and then get her unexpectantly. Simple. But she is different – she can be toyed and played with before. Walk to her house… she left the front door open and unlocked. She is as stupid as she appears. Creep in… Mother walks by. She needs a good scare… Walk just behind her. My gloves touch her hair. Before she whips around and lets out a cry I am in the linen closet out of sight.

She runs downstairs and tries to get out of the front door… but someone beat her to the punch and disabled the door. She frantically tries the back. It is no better than the front. The windows are boarded with blankets over them. I do my job well.

She is in the middle of the 'living' room. Creep up behind her and stab. She sits in the middle of the room crying like a little toddler. "Please! Please!" She begs. She is extremely annoying… she makes a morbid choking noise as the knife seeps into her. She falls to the floor in an instant and makes noises like a dying cat. Is she going to Meow! now? The puddle of blood on the floor is fine artwork right there. Too bad there's not a camera around. Sirens are going. Better flee. Time to go and find Laurie.

Now, which house did she seek a refuge in? She has obviously left the old lady's house and those children that she was "protecting" are long gone to the police station… There are twelve - wait! Fourteen houses up and down this fugly street. It starts at house number one.

Sirens are coming closer… da, dah, dee dum. Time to walk around for a bit and come back later. An ambulance comes. Baldie is getting loaded into the back of the truck. "He's alive… pulse…breathing…make it." A Peramedic is hollering. _What_? Anger enrages me. He was dead! He _mus_t be dead! I will finish him off!

Walk down the street. Steal that green car and follow Baldie. "Hold it. You can't take the car." An innocent civilian challenging _me_? Ha! This will be a breeze. I walk up to this "hero" and stab his guts out. His pain helps calm me down. His pain is pleasure.

His corpse is laying in the street for the world to see. I just walk away. Bust open the car door window. Get in the car. The moron who owns this piece of junk left the keys in the ignition. Drive after the ambulance. Drive, Drive, Drive…

This music plays from a box in the car. Annoying! Punch the box, and the music dies. Drive, Drive, Drive… the Ambulance is pulling up to a "hospital". Brings back bad memories. Nothing to do but wait in the car until Baldie comes out… and plan.


	4. A New Delimma

Chapter 4:

Baldie is on one of those old-time stretcher-things. The paramedics wheel him in. Pondering from the car… They get up and leave. Get out of the car and walk towards the storage room. A snake falls out of nowhere into the middle of the path. "Hissssssss. Hisssssssssssssssssss." The snake looks up into my eyes and slithers off. A green, nasty slime is in the spot where the snake was. Idea. Pick up the snake. It hisses angrily flashing its yellow and red stripes, like a striped shirt from the seventies…

It's tiny tongue is hissing angrily. Drop it uncompassionately in the storeroom door. The stupid morons "Policeman" preach about security and don't bother to look storerooms hidden in the bushes. Uh-oh, it just got dropped in the room. Whoever comes in here next is in for the kill. This snake is not a happy soul. Good. How the world should be. Door creaks open. Male nurse walks in wearing his white doctors coat with the stupid tube thing on his neck which cannot listen to hearts, like at the 'cure' hospital….

Ten years ago, it was raining. It was a white building with other crazy people ("They aren't crazy Michael, they only need help, just like you. We are trying to help you Mike," as that damned Dr. would say constantly.) The rain was picking up, pouring down so fast and covering all the windows. Rain was falling, just like souls were falling all around the damn universe… "Good afternoon Michael. How are you feeling today?" Therapist talking. Like every day. "Michael, I would appreciate it if you would please talk to me," her eyes batted. She is an ignorance to this earth. Fuck her, she can go die. That set me off. The stupid tube around her neck 'to listen to hearts' – I grabbed it, pulling it around her throat and it felt so, so good…

The ugly, horrid yet lucious memory broke off as this doctor walked on by. Hmm, a whiff of Cologne. How delicious. His neck-tube looks like it is in prime condition for another extermination. Grab it and pull. His feet are dangling in the air as he is gasping for air. His turning-black eye sockets are popping out from his head. His face is turning blue. His skin is red. "Sh-sh-sh-st-sttt-st…" His neck falls back and his limp body is dropped to the floor. Job well done. His perfectly white coat feels not so white anymore – even though no blood is on it.

The snake slithers by hissing loudly for the world to hear. The stupid snake wants to draw attention to itself. It slithers back through the darkness, its tail making a perfect 's'. Off to find Baldie. Take the secret stairs up to the third floor. Peek in each room. Lady carrying an infant in room Three-Hundred Seven. Yuck. Bloody corpse in room Three-Hundred Nine. Room Three-Hundred Eleven – Jackpot.

One, three, four, eight, nine. Nine paramedic-people surround Baldie. Pretend to check his tube. "Hey! Who the bloody hell are you and are you supposed to be up here?" Shit. "Gimme your ID!" Another "paramedic" shouted. Flee. They leave searching for me. I hide next to the toilet. Jackasses. Go to Baldie. Walk to his bedside table. A knife sitting next to him… He eyes it and grabs. And misses. The knife is about to be lowered into his breast. He screams bloody murder like day and night. _Oh no you don't you stupid fucker!_ Push it in…

Ommpfh. Nurse attacks me from behind. Grabs the knife has it aimed towards me. "Yell, yell, yell." All she can do. Grab the knife and chase her. She screams and runs away as well. Back to Baldie… He is now lonely… and terrified. Walk closer…


End file.
